


ivy and iris

by Bluecoeur (vietbluefic)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Azakana, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon Universe, Cute Lillia, Dark Fantasy, Demon Hunters, Demons, Drowning dream, Eskimo Kisses, Fantasy, Feel-good, Gen, Heartwarming, Hurt/Comfort, Lillia-centric, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, One Shot, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Relationships, Sniff Kisses, Spirit Blossom Elements, Spirits, Sweet, Yone Is Doing His Best, Yone-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vietbluefic/pseuds/Bluecoeur
Summary: They made such an odd pair of friends: the fawn and the unforgotten.(Or;Lillia and Yone are good besties and also whoop minor-demon ass.)
Relationships: Lillia & Yone (League of Legends)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	ivy and iris

**Author's Note:**

> Michael Yichao, writer of Yone, confirmed that [Yone is soft for Lillia](https://twitter.com/michaelyichao/status/1286754068099080194) and thinks of her [like a little sister](https://twitter.com/michaelyichao/status/1286760016658067456). [They're actual BFFs](https://twitter.com/michaelyichao/status/1298430958194966528) and so help me I WILL lay down my life for these weird friends. This fic also resulted out of me finding out that "Eskimo kisses" are ([at least to the Inuit](https://www.southcoasttoday.com/article/20050216/LIFE/302169966)) literally just the sniff-kisses I've grown up with my whole life as a Southeast Asian child. My mom still sniff-kisses me to this day. I can't believe this. >;((
> 
> So here's something cute for these unexpected besties. More love to Lillia and base-skin Yone please. >o< ♥ I hope you enjoy!

Yone had scars down his face. Down and diagonal. The longer of them started below his left eye, slashed through his cheekbone, and marred the corner of his mouth — so that one side always seemed to turn down, even when neutral. Lillia was entranced. She knew scars; she’d seen dreams of them. She’d never before seen them in the flesh, though. Sometimes, she drew grooves in the soft mud, and wondered what sharp claws dug lines like these out of her friend. But then she’d also wonder if they had hurt to heal, which was a sad and scary thought. So she didn’t like to think of that at all.

Yone frightened her, the first time they met. How could he not? He towered, his hair blew wild, and the long, wicked horns on his mask cast ominous red-and-cyan shadows over an already-severe face. When he turned to face her, the gleam of his swords sent Lillia scampering to hide. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. Now, she knew she could prop her head on his back, fall asleep, and he’d sit still and silent through the whole night so as not to disturb her. Yone was gruff, sullen, and sometimes very sad. But he always spoke to her gently. He rested a hand on her petal-hair in a way that warmed her from the inside-out. He was a good friend. Lillia liked Yone a lot.

So one day, when Yone wasn’t looking, Lillia leaned in and bumped her nose against his cheek. More specifically: against his scars. As a fawn, her nose was very sensitive, and she thought the corded texture of his wounds’ rough healing very strange, indeed. She drew a quick inhale — felt reassured by the wash of his scent — before Yone was pulling away in surprise.

“Lillia?”

“ _Eep!_ I-I wasn’t doing anything!”

Lillia went red and, with no other cover, slapped her hands up to hide her face. Her tail whipped back and forth anxiously, and in her mind she cried out, _Hold still! Hold still!_ It refused.

“Well, no, I-I mean— That wasn’t weird, was it? Ahh, oh no, oh no, it was weird, you think it was weird… I just do it to the flowers in my Garden all the time, b-but then you’re no flower, _ahh, sorry!_ ”

Yone narrowed his one eye at her, albeit more amused than offended. Even so, Lillia felt herself go hot from flower to collarbone, and she resisted the urge to jump up and run away. He said, “Ah. So. You were smelling me, as if I were a bloom?”

“Yes— NO!” Lillia yelped. “It was a…a…a kiss!”

Which it was. Kisses helped flowers to blossom bigger, tree-shoots to grow faster, and dreams to form sweeter. Mother Tree told her this, and it did work! Lillia had tended to the Garden, to the dreams that occupied its grounds. And every so often, she’d give them kisses to encourage them along. The dreams billowed like clouds against her cheeks, and each one smelled different from the others. Happy ones were orange-tangy. Sad ones were pungent as licorice root. Once, she stumbled over an angry dream, all buzzing and puffed with hot air, and the scent of it made her sneeze for several minutes after.

Flowers weren’t always that soft. But now and then she’d bury her face in them just to breathe in their fragrance, feel the cool texture of their petals against her nose. This, too, she learned, was a kiss. And soon it became Lillia’s favorite kind to give.

But _oh!_ Never before had she tried doing it to a _human!_

“Humans don’t kiss like that, do they?” she mumbled, dismayed. “I never thought anything was odd about it… I-I’m a fawn, so…! It feels natural for me to…to scent things, and I thought you might’ve…liked one… _Oh,_ I’m sorry, Yone, I should’ve asked first! Or not done it at all! I won’t do it again, I promise—”

“Lillia, Lillia, you are overthinking this.” And then she felt his hand on her forehead, the overlap of his bandages rough against her hairline. His voice hummed a low, fond noise as he said, “I am not angry. Or offended. In fact…”

Yone’s scarred mouth did a funny little dance: quavering, like it was uncertain whether it wanted to smile or frown.

“You reminded me that I used to be kissed in a similar way, when I was young.”

Lillia stared at him, taking a moment to process, before her whole face lit up like a firefly.

“R…Really?”

“Yes. By my mother.” Yone drew back his hand and this time smiled for sure. “She called them sniff kisses. Most of the time, it was just a thing you’d do to little children, or to family. To show your affection. When my…brother had just been born…” Yone murmured and out of nowhere sounded wearier, much more hesitant. “…they let me try holding him. And I looked at him, and put my nose to his hair and kissed him. Just that once.”

“Oh.”

A brief, awkward silence fell after that. Lillia fidgeted, fingers all a-twist ‘round her staff. She didn’t know much about Yone’s family. Only that he had a mother, and a stepfather, and a little half-brother whom he didn’t seem to like talking about. But she’d gleaned enough to know that Yone’s parents were gone, and that his brother was why he looked like this now — and that somewhere deep down, Yone still cared for Yasuo despite everything.

This confused him, though, and saddened him. Which Lillia didn’t understand. She didn’t understand a lot of it, really. She had no real concept of _feud_ or _betrayal_ or any of these other complicated matters. _Humans are so strange and complex…_

But she did understand sorrow. Anger and regret, too. And she knew that it was good to be comforted from these, so she’d try her best to do so.

Thus, Lillia scooted closer, hooves tucked under her belly. She put her hands on Yone’s and pressed her nose to his scars again. He smelled like good things when she inhaled, softly. Like linen and soil, like last smoldering embers; like the memory of a cold melon split on a muggy summer day. His chest rumbled with suppressed laughter, but he didn’t move. Just shut his eyes and let her nuzzle their cheeks together. After another moment, she felt his hand on her shoulder before Yone patted her and pulled away.

Still, the dream-fawn was relieved to find that beneath the dark of his mask, her friend was smiling.

“Come, little fawn,” said Yone. “We should… Hm, well. _You_ should get some rest. I will take the first watch for us.”

“Oh! Wake me up once the moon is high. A-An’ I’m serious this time!” Lillia sat up straight and cuddled her staff in her arms, peeking at him half-nervous, half-angry. “I won’t forget how you lied and let me sleep all the way ‘till morn…! You need to rest, too, Yone. If you try to do that again, I’ll— I’ll— I’ll hit you!”

“Ah.” Yone’s mask made it difficult to read his expressions. Still, by this point Lillia had spent enough time with him to spot with ease the slight, good-natured narrowing of his eye, and to tell that the new angle of his mouth was because he’d bitten his cheek, fighting not to smile. “I’ll be sure to follow that order, then. I’ve seen you swing your censer about. I think I’d prefer to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you.”

“ _I-I-I wouldn’t—!_ Oh! You’re teasing me.”

Yone cracked and shot her a look, his grin expressed purely through that one eye. _Eep!_ She headbutted his shoulder in retaliation. Then she set about making herself comfy. Many were the possible sleep-positions for one such as her; Lillia decided to spread out on her side tonight, and pillowed her head on the criss-cross of Yone’s legs. She could sense Yone’s gaze on her, a weighty, palpable thing as always. But where the intensity of his regard should’ve made her feel small, feel cornered, she only felt _seen._ After a while, a hand rose to rest atop her furred back. Not petting or stroking. Just _there_ — as if to feel her breathing, or assure himself that she was still close by.

Lillia flicked her long ears. Curled up smaller. In her arms, she hugged the censer of her staff, its fragrant heat a wordless lullaby from home. Blue-violet light emitted between closed petals. It smelled so sweet; it thrummed against her own chest, like a little heartbeat. Lillia unwound at the sensation and felt contentment rush over her. Felt relaxed. Felt _safe._

“Sleep,” whispered the masked man above. His voice was very gentle.

Thus, surrounded by Mother’s magic and a friend’s warm presence, Lillia closed her eyes and drifted off to another dream.

* * *

Lillia had a flower in her hair. It was big, fragrant, and more than a little unreal. At first, Yone even assumed it was just decoration — the same way he’d seen children weave clover chains, and wear them as headdresses. But he realized soon enough that whatever the truth of its nature, Lillia’s flower was singularly unique. Decidedly unnatural. It opened and closed in accordance with her mood, and when she was afraid it quivered with her, as if it, too, could be nervous. Its slim leaves shivered deepest purple. The core shimmered with white pollen. Only whenever Lillia fell asleep did the flower truly _bloom_ : spreading open, until its petals expanded almost the size of both his cupped hands, to emit a molten-gold light.

That light now streaked through the darkness. A glimmering beacon, for which he was grateful — because this way he could distinguish her from the _azakana_ at a glance, and would not strike her by mistake. A writhing body surged at Yone, roaring, shattered tusks bared. Yone spun aside and swung his swords around. The blades carved through meat, hit bone, and he yanked them out to an ear-buzzing, agonized bellow.

“DUCK!”

Yone ducked. Not half a second later, an immense acorn humming with magic lobbed through the space his head had just been, and smashed bull’s-eye into another azakana. Dust dispersed in a _poof_ , bluish-violet. It began to eat into the demon’s flesh and the azakana shrieked, clawing at its own face, twisting in pain.

“Sorry! So sorry!” Lillia cried somewhere behind him. “Oh, _look out!_ ”

Yone whirled. Claws swung at him, dark and scrabbling, and Yone skittered backwards to flip up his swords. Every step became a dance. Every movement rattled the masks at his hips, a sound like ivory theater-clappers.

_Their names,_ they whispered without voices. _Tell us their names._

_Yes,_ thought Yone, and he held up one of his dual blades. In the moonlight, it shone bruise-purple. He knew its true color in darkness.

“Show me who they are,” he whispered.

Underhand, the blade pulsed.

Over his face, the red bone of his mask dug into his cheekbones, into the socket of his right eye. He felt the iris boil hot, seared with invisible fire that burned away his vision of the mortal plane, and left behind the snowmelt-clarity of the spirit realm. Through his left, he perceived the azakana as any mortal would. Shadowed, warped and vaguely humanoid. Through his right he saw their real forms, wicked and ever-hungry. His vision overlapped thus. An intersection between truth and trickery.

Through the one eye of his accursed mask, Yone saw.

 _Characters:_ written in archaic script. Scrawled ethereal over fanged faces. Yone bared his teeth and whipped his sword to his side.

“Lillia!” he shouted. “Stand back!”

“O-Okay!” he heard her reply. Her hooves drummed like rainfall as she fled into the treeline. _Good fawn,_ Yone thought fiercely. Then he turned to face the azakana as they advanced, screeching for blood. Despite his and Lillia’s efforts, they had not died; they could not. Not until Yone called them by name.

“Three of you,” he hissed, “to feed upon the unknowing souls of _children._ I’m going to _eradicate_ you.”

The antlered azakana screeched again. This time he understood the sound to be laughter.

(Off to one side, two little ones slept soundly in the roots of an aspen tree. Violet dust powdered their hair, shimmery in the moonlight. All around them, out of season: flowers had bloomed.)

Yone roared, “ _Zhi’sen!_ ”

One of the azakana let loose an earthshaking howl. Its shaded face coalesced — became the face he saw in his right eye, now visible to his left. Enraged, all three pounced and Yone dodged, rolling through the mud back onto his feet. Silver and red flashed his blades, singing through the air to fend off a flurry of claws and horns and slavering teeth.

“ _Voh Ryaa!_ ” he called. Another azakana staggered and tore at its hair, screaming while the features of its body melted into existence. Distracted for a moment, Yone swung his sword and severed an arm — though not before a grunt of pain when a claw sliced open the muscle in his thigh. He hissed, turned on the ball of his foot, and _slashed._ There came a _shriek_ that sprayed saliva and acid into his face as the great head of Zhi’sen came to dangle by tendons and shredded meat.

It didn’t matter. Only one left.

Yone jumped back, inhaled, and shouted, “ _AHN—!_ ”

Pain.

Wind whipped through his hair — against his limbs — before Yone slammed against a tree hard enough to splinter. He felt something snap. He screamed. From far away, so did a familiar voice. Antlers of bone and steel gored him through, pinned him to the aspen trunk, and Yone felt tepid blood rush out from him as though a river released. Hot breath huffed against his stomach. He felt tusks on his belly, where they curved into a grin.

Garbled snarls reached his ears. The mask clamped over his face took them, and fed them into his brain as speech.

 _YOU WILL DIE HERE, HUNTER,_ they said. _YOU WILL DIE AND WE WILL EAT. WE WILL_ FEAST.

 _No,_ screamed a vague, tinny voice in Yone’s mind. The antlers slid out of him and he collapsed into the mud. Muscles twitched, involuntary. He vomited blood and knew at once the damage in him was irreparable. _No no no I cannot fail. The children. The little ones. They lost their homes. They have no one. The azakana will kill them, and devour them, and torment them if I fail. Get up. Get up!_

“YONE!”

His vision had begun to dip black. Lillia’s flower was a bright blot amidst that growing dark. Wheezing, Yone rolled his eye open and found her. Her face was a mask, one of open-mouthed horror and anguish and harsh, whooshing despair.

 _Oh, Lillia,_ he thought. _Lillia. Forgive me._

She looked so small. The azakana towered several heads over her, massive, shaggy and scythelike and bloody-antlered. But her eyes ( _purest sea-blue_ ) fixed only on him. On his pierced and fractured body. The last of the demons — the yet-unnamed one — lowered its face to his and screeched that laugh again.

 _SHE’LL DIE, TOO, HUNTER,_ it spoke like nails driven into his eyes. _WHAT A FOOL AND FAILURE YOU HAVE TURNED OUT TO BE._

He grit bloody teeth and turned to meet Lillia’s gaze.

_Forgive me._

Yone panted and managed to raise a shaking hand. Something clicked in his throat, painful and dry. Still, he must try.

The name emerged a whisper, hoarse with pain: “ _Ahn Re’shai_ …”

He saw Lillia’s long ears flip up.

The azakana above him _screamed_ — its shadowy body already beginning to solidify — before raising its great fists and slamming them down onto his—

* * *

_He awoke in a lake._

_Yone gasped, gulped murky water, and thrashed._

_The water was cold. It tasted of algae, and sat solid in his stomach. Yone kicked and struggled, but his body dragged down below the surface nonetheless. How could this be? He’d always been a strong swimmer. Unless…_

_His heart seized when he realized: something clung to his back, to the nape of his neck. Something sharp and icy like needles dug into his skin,_ latching _the thing there. Panicked, he tore at it, trying to rip it off. But a brain-numbing agony rocketed through his skull when he did, and this time he inhaled a lungful of water going under. He surfaced again gagging and coughing, flailing for a handhold. There were none._

_“Not yet.”_

_Yone’s eyes flew open with a gasp. Through the sting of algae in his eyes, he flinched from light, blinding and brightest gold. But just ahead— Stone steps. They led to a gate, to a hill, to a tree that arched into the sky and lost itself amongst the clouds._ This is not real. _This was the realest thing he’d ever known. On the closest stepping-stone sat a fox, looking at him._

Please, _Yone tried to cry._ I cannot reach you. _The stepping-stones were both so close yet so far away. He could barely tread water with the weight on him; he would never be able to reach the path. The fox flicked a long, fiery tail and spoke with a woman’s voice._

_“Not yet,” it — she — said and almost seemed to be scolding him, however gently. “You must call it by name first, so that it will let you go. Until then, you cannot surface.”_

_“W-Wh—?!” Yone’s words gurgled as he went under a fourth time. It felt harder than ever to kick against the weight hauling his throat downwards. By the time he broke out into the golden air again, his lungs were on fire. He coughed and shouted, “Please! I’m— I’m going to die!”_

_“You already have.”_

_The fox stood, then to Yone’s shock walked right out onto the water, which held her weight as though solid ground. She was a sleek, elegant creature. White and cyan, with keen eyes._

_“As you did before then,” she continued, and did sound sorry. “And before then, and then, and then. You must try to remember, and you must learn the name. Only then, Yone, can I lead you where you are meant to go.”_

(“YONE!”)

_The memory jolted through him, unlatched something that had been locked tight before. Self-awareness doused him like new adrenaline. Yone shuddered and fought to stay with the air._

_“Lillia,” he said. “Lillia.”_

_“Yes,” said the fox. “Now go.” She came closer, put a paw on his shoulder. Yet where she touched him Yone felt not a fox's narrow foot, but a long, human hand instead. “Return to the world of the living…nevermind the fact that you’re no longer alive.”_

_“No,” Yone cried, panicking despite himself when he felt the hand on him begin to push him down. “Nonono, wait, PLEASE, WAIT—”_

_But the fox didn’t listen. Paralyzed by terror, Yone felt her force his head below, choked on the air that seemed to eject itself from his lungs, tasted the water that came rushing in—_

* * *

And then with a ragged gasp, he awoke again.

“Y-Y- _Yone?!_ ”

Yone coughed, tasted nothing but bile and his own saliva, and cracked open his one eye. “Lillia,” he croaked.

His tongue grated the roof of his mouth. His body was whole and untouched. Knelt before him, Lillia stared open-mouthed, eyes huge.

Then she promptly burst into tears.

“Yone! Yone, you’re alive! You’re alive! Am…Am I d-dreamin’…?!”

“No, you aren’t.” Weakly (his entire body throbbed as though he’d been crushed by the bottom of the ocean) Yone reached out to press his palm to her forehead. He murmured, “Hello, little fawn.”

Lillia let out a wail. She grabbed his wrist and smushed her face against his hand. “You died,” she sobbed. “You died a-an’ I didn’t know what to do…! I di’n’t, I di’n’t want them to hurt your body any more, s-so I yelled, an’ I ran, an’ I hit them over and over with my bough until I could magic ‘em to sleep, a-a-an’ then I used your swords to—”

“You what?”

Yone sat up straighter to stare, bewildered. Lillia sniffed and lowered his hand, clutched between both of hers. Her eyes were huge and mournful and, now, a little sheepish.

“I— I used your swords. While they were asleep. I shouted their names and then jabbed them and, um. Hoped fer the best.”

She had the sense to blush. Lillia cast her eyes away and fumbled for something in the mud by her side.

“An’ I think it worked, because…because they became these.”

And the dream-fawn handed him three alabaster masks. Yone stared at them, stunned into silence. The faces of the antlered azakana greeted him. Their mouths wrung into tusked grimaces but their eyes were shut, as though in deep sleep. He recognized their expressions.

 _Unrelenting Sorrow,_ he named in his head. _Fear of Change. And Fulminating Anger._

His mind’s eye summoned the image of two little children: fast asleep under a tree. Yone lifted his head and looked around. “Where are…?”

“Ah! The kiddies? They’re okay!” Lillia sneezed and then beamed, wide with as much relief as pride. “They’re all right! They’re still asleep… We can take them to the nearest h-human village, and in the morning they’ll wake thinkin’ all this was no more than a bad, burly nightmare. Oh, Yone… I’m so happy you’re—”

He dropped the masks and pulled her into an embrace.

Lillia squawked as his arms wrapped around her. For her sake, Yone did make it brief. So he squeezed her against himself, ruffled her petal-hair, and then let go. The hug lasted but a second.

“ _Hah._ You make a fine warrior, little fawn,” he said. He peered down his nose at her and smiled, sincere. “You did well. I’m proud of you, Lillia.”

The bud on her head closed tight. A soft squeak emitted from her, perhaps involuntary. Lillia stared at him a long moment, then squeezed her eyes shut and — to Yone’s surprise — tucked into his chest, cheeks hot. Her arms wound around his torso to grip his shoulders close, as if he might vanish otherwise.

She whispered, “I…I know about death. I do. I’ve seen it before, in the dreams of the Garden, and the nightmares. They hurt you bad, and you stopped moving. And right away I knew.”

“Ah.” Yone averted his face. The scarred corner of his mouth twisted. “I’m sorry that you had to see that.”

“No! You came back! I’ve never… I’ve never seen anyone come back. Not awake.” Lillia took his hand between hers, pressed her thumbs against his knuckles, and said, “I’m really, _really_ happy you’re awake, Yone.”

“Mmn…” Yone hooked his forefinger around her pinky and nodded, once. His expression was warm. “I am, too.”

Then, because it felt correct to do so, he leaned down to touch cheeks with her. He heard Lillia squeak before the cold bridge of his mask bumped her temple. The same way he’d done to his baby brother, years ago, Yone inhaled the skin at her hairline. Felt the blue petals of her hair flutter at the soft suction. The dream-fawn smelled like moss, rain, and new green sprouts, poking up from the earth.

He sniff-kissed her a second time, a third. At last, he drew away to pat the back of her hand. A reassurance: he’d be no more inappropriate than this.

It…didn’t really seem to work.

Lillia stared and stared and _stared_ at him. Then, very, very quickly, her face went _scarlet._

“Lilli—?”

“ _AAHHHHH!_ ”

She surged to her hooves, bounded headfirst into the brush. Behind her, her tail wagged rapidfire. Yone sputtered and climbed to his feet.

“Lillia!”

“No! Don’t look! Don’t look at me!” Her voice came muffled by the bushes she’d leapt into. “Aaahhh none of th’ flowers or dreams ever gave me a kiss _back!_ You di’n’t even warn me! EEP, I dunno what to do!”

Yone couldn’t help it. He tried to hold back a laugh but it escaped, though no more than a quiet snort. Lillia heard him and _squealed_ just like a startled deer: perhaps in embarrassment, or indignance.

“You’re _laughing_ at me!!”

“I don’t mean to,” Yone protested and did honestly try to school his expression. “I apologize, little sister. I will ask properly next time. I just wanted to say thank-you.”

“Y…You’re welcome… Oh, tail, please stop _moving!_ ”

Yone crinkled his eye and covered his mouth. This time he managed to keep silent. While Lillia grabbed her tail with both hands, trying to conceal her own joy, the masked swordsman watched over her, a deep-hearted fondness rooted and blooming within his chest. And for a moment, the weight on him did not feel quite so heavy.

That was nice. Very nice.

It wasn’t so bad — to be alive and well with a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> me: I'm pretty sure that it can't be canonical for anyone to be able to seal azakana besides Yone. His stolen demon-sword, mask, and semi-resurrection have put him in the position where he is likely literally one of if not the only person in Ionia to be able to hunt, name, and destroy these minor demons. Technically even with their names told to her, Lillia shouldn't be able to do what he does.  
> also me: but this is my fic so haha canon goes brrrrr.
> 
> That said, though I really hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> [❁ Twitter](https://twitter.com/vietbluecoeur)   
> 


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